


Long Way Till Morning

by DarkHeartInTheSky



Series: Random Drabbles/Requests [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 10.22 coda, Drabble, Fix-It, Hurt Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Mark of Cain, May contain spoilers, Prisoner Coda, Title Subject to Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 15:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3941170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkHeartInTheSky/pseuds/DarkHeartInTheSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NOTE: Work contains spoilers for episode 10.22 "The Prisoner". </p><p> </p><p>Sam returns to the bunker. There are three dead bodies, a nearly dead Castiel, and no Dean anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Way Till Morning

The bunker was  trashed. 

Books were thrown everywhere. The stench of gasoline and gunpowder permeated the air, making Sam’s nose cringe in disgust. Bloody footsteps were left on the stairs and as he descended, Sam pulled his gun and flicked off the safety.

“Dean?” he called, walking down slowly, craning his neck to see around all the corners. When he got to foyer, he had a clear view into the library. He stepped over a dead body that lay on the steps, knife still sticking out of its back. Sam swallowed his disgust. There was so much blood, everywhere…

“Dean!” he said, louder. Two more bodies, one a kid. He couldn’t have been older than Kevin was. 

Sam’s eyes pricked with hot tears and he holstered his gun back on his hip. Oh god, what had Dean done, what had he done?  Dean had killed…

Sam heard movement to his right and his head snapped that direction.

“Cas!” Sam ran by Castiel’s side in seconds and dropped to his knees. He had to cover his mouth with his hand to smother the horrid sound that threatened to crawl out.

He’d seen Castiel beat up and bloodied dozens of times, but this…It had never been this bad.

He was completely battered. His arm was bent at an obviously broken angle and if his crackling breathing was any indication, he had broken ribs too. He was bathed in blood; it pooled from his head, nose, mouth. His lips were so swollen he couldn’t hold it in and it drooled down his chin and neck. And then there was the angel blade, sticking straight out in the stack of books just inches from Cas’s head.

“Cas?” Sam said tentatively. He reached out and gently touched Castiel on his shoulder. 

Castiel jerked away violently, moaned, “Dean, no,” and Sam couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They raced freely down his face and the sob broke past his lips.

“Shh, Cas, it’s me, it’s Sam,” he babbled, eyeing the dilute blue light that was starting to glow from Castiel’s wounds. Sam only felt a small relief with this knowledge; he was still drowning in the knowledge that it was Dean who had done this to Castiel. Dean had beaten Cas worse than the angels or demons had ever done. 

Castiel opened one eye slowly--the other was swollen shut. “Sam,” he said, breathless and crying. He grabbed onto Sam’s sleeve with his unbroken arm and tried to pull himself up.

“Hold on,” Sam said and he helped Castiel into a semi sitting position though he leaned heavily into Sam.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” Castiel said, tears adding to the mix of blood. “He’s--Dean’s gone, I couldn’t stop him, I’m so sorry Sam.”

“It’s okay,” Sam said quickly. “This is not your fault Cas, you did nothing wrong.”

It was his fault. All of this had been his fault. Dean was right, he had been fine until he needed a reason to kill. Charlie’s death was Sam’s fault one hundred percent. 

Sam looked back at the angel blade, sticking completely vertical.

And if Cas had died, it would’ve been his fault too. Cas alive, but beaten like a battered wife, was his fault. If he hadn’t pushed when there was no reason...if he had left well enough alone….

“He killed that boy, Sam.”

And Sam pulled Castiel close to his chest and wrapped his arms around the back of his head. The boy that had to have been Kevin’s age. Dean killed a boy in cold blood; beat Cas an inch within his life.

And it was all Sam’s fault.

In all honesty, he never thought that Dean would hurt them, him or Cas, no matter how far off the reservation he went. He knew the legacy Cain laid out. But since when did the Winchesters follow destiny? He brushed it off, the same way he always did when some big bad guy told Dean he needed to kill Sam. He knew in his heart that Dean would never, could never, kill him.

But then he remembered what Dean said to him. How it should’ve been him on that pyre instead of Charlie. How he said it with such venom and vehemence, how he meant it. 

If he had just burnt that fucking book when he had the chance….

“Are you okay?” he said quietly, unable to trust his voice not to crack.

He felt Castiel tense. “My grace,” he said into Sam’s chest, “is not...up to the strength it was before Metatron took it. I will heal. But, I’m afraid…”

“It’s okay, Cas,” Sam said. “How long do you think?”

Castiel shrugged. “A day? Maybe two.”

“That’s okay. You can lay low in one of the spare bedrooms, till you’re all mojoed up again. I’ll,” his voice catches, “I’ll take care of the bodies.”

The kid, he can’t help but think. 

“I do not think Dean will be returning home.”

“Well,” Sam huffed, “then I guess we’ll have to bring him home ourselves.”

He hadn’t killed Crowley, but he would get the cure from Rowena. After how far they’ve come, all the prices they paid (all the prices they almost paid), there was no turning back now.

They would cure Dean. 

They had to. 


End file.
